The Road Home Is Never Smooth

A plethora of results came up and, of course, I clicked the first one. I saw the accident in Greenwich, but didn’t connect it with Stef’s troubles because it said the traffic was moving at 35 mph. It wasn’t until I hit a few other spots that I put two and two together.

Stef called a little while ago. “I’m in park,” she said.

Not good. She was on the New England Thruway, headed home for a week. The accident, I’d soon find out, was in Connecticut – miles away.

I went online to scope it out. We have traffic cameras at work, but Stef was still out-of-state. I entered “I95 traffic Westchester” in Google.

A plethora of results came up and, of course, I clicked the first one. I saw the accident in Greenwich, but didn’t connect it with Stef’s troubles because it said the traffic was moving at 35 mph. It wasn’t until I hit a few other spots that I put two and two together.

With all due respect, nearly very time I’ve been stuck in traffic and gone to the radio for info, I’ve been disappointed.

Stef will be here for a little over a week. After school and sorority and other socializing, the Fox house is her own little rehab spa. It’s quiet. She can sleep as late as she wants (with no middle of the night, drunken student induced, fire drills). The catering isn’t too shabby either!

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